Homicidal or Hilarious?

Those two options above, for whatever reason, seem to be the only two options for my mood this week. I've been sick-- almost flat on my back-- for the past two days, and have been trying to help out wherever I can, but wow! I feel like these two pictured below might just be a handful even if I didn't feel like I'd just been run over by a small SUV.

Four examples of why I feel this way:

Uno: Judah is in a very trying stage right now-- he clings to us as if separation would kill us all, and whines every five minutes whether we're separated or not. Recently, I tried to do dishes in the morning with two major impediments: 1) I could barely stand up anyway, and 2) Judah kept trying to pull my shorts down, causing me to list to and fro. Finally, just when it looked like he was going to walk away, he turned around and pulled my leg hair (apparently he missed the shorts by that much) as hard as he could. Naturally, I screamed like a frightened elephant. So, he screamed like a small child, which is inexplicably MUCH louder. Really, Judah?

Dos: However, for about three seconds a day, he will be super- awesome.... just about make up for the eight hours of whining. He will hold his arms above his head and start running to you, completely unaware that at eleven months old he shouldn't be able to run, until BOOM! He forgot about the stuffed animal sitting there and, to quote one of my favorite children's books, Corduroy, over he fell with a crash! And then both we and he will sit there giggling. Hilarious.

Tres: Elijah is almost three going on almost fifteen. I told him yesterday that he needed a diaper change, so naturally he dawdled. Finally, I laid down the ultimatum that either he came and let me change him "like a big boy" or "I would come get him like I would Judah," which always works. Elijah is nothing if not a big boy at heart.

Yesterday, however, he looked at me as if I had severely annoyed him and said-- direct quote, italics mine-- "I'm coming, Dad. Why you in such a hurry, anyway? I'm coming." Wow.

Cuatro (and final): In addition to that beautiful outburst, he had about a twenty-minute meltdown today completely unrelated to his split lip that he sustained yesterday at the hands of a flute (long, but pretty funny, story), but at the end, after twenty minutes of unbridled hostility, he turned around and with no guile whatsoever, said, "Thank you for getting me a Popsicle. I love it when you do things for me..." and went on a two-minute compliment barrage. He's basically bipolar, but measured in mood swings of seconds, not days. In other words, he's just like me :), as Rachel so often lovingly points out. I'm glad she's stuck with us. I don't thin anyone would blame her if she just pulled a Runaway Bride and was found five counties over.

Have a wonderful night!